


Chicago

by rainbowjaeger



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowjaeger/pseuds/rainbowjaeger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the prompt of getaway driver Gaby. Part 1 of 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redbrunja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/gifts).



> Redbrunja or swimthroughthefires on Tumblr gave me some prompts to work with, and I decided this'll be a two-parter since my previous works have been way too short imo. 
> 
> This works hasn't been checked, so my apologies if there are any mistakes in it.
> 
> UPDATE: checked for spelling mistakes. There were a lot and I'm super ashamed. Why this.

Illya had already released two shots before the guards noticed. He cursed when they did, because immediately, reinforcements had been called.

Solo yanked him on his sleeve. “Peril, time to go.”

“Time to fight,” Illya corrected him and pointed at the incoming opponents before releasing two more shots. He heard Napoleon sigh and curse to himself, before grabbing his own gun and assisting Illya.

More and more guards came for them. The U.N.C.L.E. agents were better trained than them, but the sheer amount shooting at the two made them hurry for cover soon enough.

“Still want to fight?” Solo asked him, trying to joke even though he sounded nervous.

“Watch and learn, Cowboy.” Once again, his ego got the better of him and Illya stormed back into the hallway they fled from minutes earlier.

Napoleon sighed again and slid down the wall to sit on the floor and let his Soviet comrade take care of it. When he heard some struggling, however, he got back up, cocked his gun and decided it was time to end it.

Thank God he went to help Illya, because three guards had him cornered and were about to shoot him, three guns pointed at his head.

Before any of them could react, Napoleon had shot two of them in the head, and a third in the arm and knee. They came to this warehouse for information, and they didn’t intend on leaving before getting just that.

Illya gathered his wits soon enough, grabbed the remaining guard by the collar and slammed him against the wall. “Where is your boss?” he demanded. His voice sounded strained, and Napoleon spotted the slight limp. His leg had been hurt. He couldn’t see blood, and Illya was still standing, but Solo knew that could be the adrenaline.

“Really, I have many bosses,” the guard answered. Seemed like the two shots weren’t enough to make him talk, so Solo shot him once more, in the thigh. He winced. “Smith fled to the other side of town. He knew someone was going to come for him tonight. He put extra guards around the building, even in the nearby alleyways.”

Illya dropped the man at once, face blank, save for his perpetual frown. “Gaby is waiting in the car in the back alley.”

Solo’s heart dropped then. He sprinted after Illya, who had already taken off.

Why didn’t he realize sooner? There were more guards than Illya had killed or knocked unconscious in the hallway, and he should’ve thought more of it. Of course they would go after Gaby, or at least scan the vicinity for a getaway driver.

When they arrived at their rendezvous-point, their getaway car was nowhere in sight, and both agents started to panic, though Solo’s panic was far less apparent than Illya’s, who had at this point already punched a wall. If Solo didn’t know any better he would’ve thought the wall had cracked.

Before any of them could comment on the situation, they heard shots being fired in the distance. They looked at each other and ran towards the sound. They found Gaby next to the car, and four guards scattered over the pavement, blood leaking over the cold stone. One tried getting back up, but was immediately interrupted by a shot to the shoulder, courtesy of Illya.

“Do you want to leave or stand around all evening?” Gaby commented casually, after cursing about bloodstains on her car.

Illya nodded and all three got in the car, Illya in the passenger’s seat and Solo in the back, looking out the rear window as they drove away, handgun reloaded and ready to fire.

“What happened?” Illya asked, concern clear in his voice.

“They ambushed me, but they didn’t think I’d have the guts to run them over, apparently. They just stood in front of the car, waiting for me to get out and surrender.” She smirked. “Idiots.”

Solo looked at the two in the front and he could’ve sworn he saw a look of pride in Illya’s eyes. He decided to joke about that later and focused on checking the streets for possible pursuers. Two appeared, and Solo shot at them through the already broken window.

“Assholes broke my window, though,” Gaby spat as she accelerated.

“Tragic,” Solo couldn’t help but reply. He tried his best to ignore Gaby’s deadly stare that was almost certainly thrown his way.

“Is your leg okay? What happened?” Both men were stunned that Gaby had spotted lllya’s limp in such a  short amount of time. It revealed how much attention she actually paid to Illya, Solo thought to himself.

“Guard kicked me. Tried to get me on my knees. He was weak.” Illya tried to play it cool, but they all knew he was in pain. He was never one to show he was hurt, but his limp betrayed him this time. He rubbed his forehead. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was probably starting to feel the pain.

“I’ll inspect it when we get home,” Gaby said and made a sharp left turn, nearly causing Solo to fall over in the backseat.

“Hear that, Peril? Sounds like she’s gonna get you out of your pants.”

“You would know. Aren’t you the manwhore here, Cowboy?”

“Would you two shut up? I’m trying to get us out of here, thanks.” Gaby said, irritated.

“Nevermind. Seems like she’s not in the mood today, pal.”

Illya muttered something about not being his pal, but neither of them dared start a discussion anymore.

-

After driving for another twenty minutes, they had lost all their pursuers, and Gaby continued to drive to their hotel. She left the car out of sight, though. She was sure the broken windows and bloodstains would attract unwanted attention.

Solo and Illya shared a suite this time, under the guise of business partners. Gaby was rarely in her own suite, though. She spent most of her time on their couch, annoying Illya with a bottle of liquor in her one hand and a glass in the other.

“I’m going to bed,” Illya said curtly before walking towards the bedroom.

“Like hell you are!” Gaby shouted. She already held a bottle of vodka and Solo was afraid she was going to throw it at either of their heads. “The mission was to extract information. Nobody would notice. Instead, half of fucking Chicago noticed.”

“Solo refused to cooperate.” Illya still faced the bedroom door, as if he planned on escaping as soon as Gaby looked away, like a child being scolded.

Napoleon scoffed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one that wanted to fight instead of getting the hell out. Now they know our faces.” He sat down on the couch, arms crossed and eyebrows raised accusatorially.

“They knew anyway. Did you not pay attention to guard? He said our mark knew we we’re coming for him.” He’d turned around to face Solo, frown more apparent and fists balled.

“He said about spies coming for him, dear Peril.” He pointed at Illya and grabbed a glass, giving it to Gaby so she could fill it for him. “He never said anything about U.N.C.L.E., or the CIA or KGB or even the MI6 for that matter. It’s unlikely he knew it was us.”

“You will rethink when you have gun in your back.”  He looked at Gaby, and back at Solo. “Goodnight.” He slammed the door shut behind him.

Gaby shook her head, took a swig from the bottle, and took it with her (along with Solo's still unfilled glass) as she left the boys’ suite and headed towards her own. Solo would have told her to leave the bottle, but he wasn’t particularly fond of angry Gaby – not that he’d admit of straight up being afraid of her, even though that was the case – and decided to settle for some scotch instead.

-

Illya awoke to Solo humming. He opened one eye, and found Solo picking out a tie. Illya had commented several missions earlier that he would never need so many. The American didn’t care, just as he expected.

“It is too early for this nonsense, Cowboy. Be quiet or leave.” He sat up and left the bed, only to fall back down. His leg wasn’t fine after all. He wouldn’t really have cared and would tough it out, but Solo saw him fall and raised an eyebrow.

“Stupid guard from last night. I am fine.” He tried to stand a second time. The result was the same.

“Sadly, I have to head out, but I’ll send Gabs your way ASAP.”

“Don’t-“ Illya protested, but was interrupted by the door shutting behind Solo. He groaned and crawled back in bed, pulling the covers over his head. He would’ve stayed in this position, if it wasn’t for the same covers escaping from the end of the bed and leaving his feet cold. He cursed his height. Then he heard Gaby’s voice calling out for him and cursed the entire world with it. Not because he didn’t want her to be there, but because he did and he wasn’t supposed to feel that way.

“I’m in here,” he called back out.


	2. Chicago pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of the mission the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of had a blackout for a few days, maybe due to the holidays? idk  
> I'm still procrastinating on working on my history assignment so I figured I'd finish this work?? Future me is gonna hate present me i can feel it
> 
> ANYWAY YEAH for a series that dares call itself "fluff galore" there's not much fluff so I decided I'd fix that.  
> This isn't beta-ed, and English isn't my first language so bear with me here.

Gaby just stared at him, and he stared back, eyes equally challenging and cold, stoic as he was. He was truly hopeless; after Solo had gone to Gaby’s suite to ask her to take care of injured Illya, she gladly obliged. For a moment, she’d forgotten how much of a (quite literal) giant mess this man was.

“You want to go for a run?” She spoke slowly as she repeated his words, unsure if that was actually what he just told her or if she’d simply imagined it.

He nodded silently. They were standing opposite of each other, both with their arms crossed, though Gaby looked sleepier than Illya and he looked a little worse for wear.

“You’re limping, do you know that? Or did you just erase that tiny detail from your apparently tinier brain?” Really, there was no getting into her partner’s mind.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” This got him a skeptical look from Gaby. He hadn’t even mentioned the head wound to either of his partners. It didn’t seem necessary at the time, though now, the longer he stood, the more nauseous he began to feel. If he didn’t sit down soon, he’d probably tip over. But that would mean Gaby won the argument, and even though he had nothing against Gaby (far from it, actually) or her being right, he simply couldn’t put his ego aside. It irritated him, and he knew from experience that irritation lead to anger very easily.

“Get back in the bed.” She was apparently done arguing, now moving on to commands.

“No.” He started walking towards the door, but his path was blocked. A five-foot-four barricade stood in front of him, looking as stubborn and determined as ever. He tried his best to hold back a smile.

“Get back. In. The bed.” This time, the serious and slightly threatening tone shocked Illya a bit, and his head felt like a murky body of water anyway so he went to sit down, the mattress creaking under his weight. The air in the room felt heavy.

“I can take care of myself, Chop Shop Girl.” Though they’d been together for a while now (both the team and Gaby and Illya), the nicknames they all had for each other stuck. Though Illya didn’t use Gaby’s much, unless he felt she was being too cocky for his liking.

“Sure you can,” she agreed with him, turned around and opened the door to the main room. “Let me know if you want that wound on your head taken care of.”

She left Illya in the room, hurt, dizzy, and wondering how she’d found out.

-

When he awoke, Gaby sat in a chair on the other side of the room, reading a book that looked familiar. “Gaby?” His voice was soft, almost hushed, as if there were another sleeping person in the room.

She sighed, not looking up from the book. “You know, I recall never liking Tolstoy that much when I was younger. Guess things changed.” 

Momentarily, he thought he’d gotten away with not telling her or Solo about his head wound. “What time is it-“

“You were out for how long? After you were hit?” She’d put down the book by now and was looking at him, her face unreadable.

He waited a little while before answering. “Just a few seconds, I believe. I rose up to feet immediately. It is fine.” It was, in fact, not fine, and he knew that. His nausea didn’t go away and he felt like he was on a carrousel that didn’t stop going around, and around…

She stood up from her chair and sat next to him on the bed, her back leaning against the headboard. “Could you please drop the tough guy act?” Her face was no longer unreadable, as was her voice. It was filled with worry and anger.

“I am fine,” he insisted, looking up at her. Looking up made the spinning worse.

“You’re lucky the guy that hit you was weak, so it was a minor injury. Had it been worse and you didn’t tell us, you’d be feeling much more miserable right now.” She completely ignored him, continuing her rant. “Who the hell toughs out a concussion out anyway? Is that even possible?”

“How do you know it is a concussion? How do you even know of my injury in first place?”

“Please. Any fool could have noticed you stumbling up the stairs. That’s no leg injury. And I went back to pick up some files from Solo last night and heard you throwing up in the bathroom.” A thoughtful look appeared on her face and she smiled a little. “And it’s not like you and Solo have a patent on bugging each other,” she added in a soft voice, one she hadn’t used in their conversation the whole time. She seemed embarrassed of herself being paranoid enough to bug her partners, even though it had become the most normal thing to Illya since he had joined the KGB.

He looked away, deciding the cabinet at the end of the bed was much more interesting to look at than Gaby (as if). “I’m sorry. I will not hide anything in the future.”

Gaby slid down the headboard until her head lay on the pillow. There was a smirk on her face, the same kind Solo often wore. “Not like you’re any good at that anyways.” She lowered her voice and put on a Russian accent that, Illya had to admit, was actually not bad. “You’re a terrible spy, Peril.”

Illya turned to look at her once more. “You were not there when I said that.” He sounded slightly confused, but, to Gaby’s amusement, mostly offended.

“Solo likes to gossip,” she explained with a shrug.

“Not much of a surprise.” He didn’t want to be nosy, or seem like he cared about his image and what people said about him, but he was with Gaby, so he didn’t worry much about anything. “What else does Cowboy say about me?”

She rolled over, most of her weight now pressing against Illya’s right arm. “Only nice things,” she teased.

“As if I would believe that.”

“He did comment about your fashion taste. Something along the lines of nothing being wrong with a Patou, and that it was unbelievable how your sense for fashion was impeccable when it came to my wardrobe, yet you always wear that stupid turtleneck and smushed cap you call a hat.” She smiled, her teeth showing. “His words, not mine.”

“That sounds more like Cowboy. Where did he go, anyway?”

“Waverly said he’d gone to clean up the mess that was made at the warehouse last night. Maybe throw in a bit of charm to get the authorities off our backs easier.”

They both left it at that for a few minutes, until Illya broke the peaceful silence. “What happened last night when you disappeared?” He wasn’t worried or anything – he was genuinely curious how Gaby got herself out of that one.

“I told you – I ran some of them over and decided to wait somewhere else.” Illya didn’t seem satisfied with just that as an answer, so she continued. “A  couple of them had followed me and attacked me, but they were bad at hand-to-hand combat, and they couldn’t land any shots since I was too fast. Good thing you and Solo taught me some new moves, though. I was able to use a few on those idiots.”

When Illya just smiled at her without saying a word, she got visibly embarrassed. She would have blushed, but that was something Gaby didn’t do, apparently. Illya’d never bothered to ask why, but he thought it fit her. Her small, dainty but strong and at times, even lethal self. It was one of the small things that made Gaby _Gaby_.

“What are you laughing at?” She pushed him, but didn’t put any force behind it. Nonetheless, it made Illya’s world spin again, just when it’d seemed to have calmed down a bit. She had a tendency of doing that ever since she’d stepped into his life. Everything had been going smoothly, as far as the life of a KGB agent could have. Then she decided to throw herself into his life. Suddenly, everything that offered a sense of routine, a sense of security, had been ripped to shreds and stepped on by Gaby Teller. Of course, he had gotten a different sense of security in return – the kind of being remembered and loved and cared for. But with it, it had also brought a certain sense of insecurity – they were spies, after all. They put their lives at risk every single day. And Illya knew his luck. There was too much going right at the moment. Anything could happen and he tried to prepare himself for it, even though it was hard to prepare for the unknown. Gaby could get shot, stabbed, poisoned or suffer any other lethal incident. He could get the call he’d been expecting since the moment Waverly had mentioned U.N.C.L.E. The call from Moscow, the call for his return to the motherland.

“I am proud. You do not need me or Cowboy to protect you. You are excellent spy.” He uttered each word with care, since they were all the truth. He wanted Gaby to know that.

“Thank you.” She fumbled and thrashed around on the bed until she was under the blankets and he had her arms around her. Both silently agreed they’d want to stay like this.

The moment was short-lived, however, as they heard the door slam in a way only Napoleon could manage – with arrogance and a feeling that shouted “I’m here! I’m here! Pay attention to me!”

Illya scowled when the door opened and Solo didn’t wait a second before he started talking, as usual.

“I see you’re taking good care of our injured partner.” Though neither of the two were looking at Solo, the smirk on his face was pretty much audible.

“Are you jealous, Cowboy?” The fact that Illya felt like crap didn’t mean he couldn’t talk back to Solo.

“Not at all. In fact, I met this lovely-“

“Solo, if you would be so kind to continue this story at another time,” Gaby spoke up.

With a wave, he closed the door and the room was once again engulfed in darkness, save for the little light Gaby had forgotten to turn off after putting her book down. Not that either of them even thought of leaving the other to get up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that you can always send me prompts on my Tumblr: either rainbowjaeger or my TMFU sideblog gabytell.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Part two is going to have grumpy Illya believe me.
> 
> Meanwhile, send me prompts! My tumblr is rainbowjaeger, my tmfu sideblog is gabytell, you're welcome to send some stuff on either of the blogs!


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